Oh. My. Gods.
Check it:
Tempest Rising Cover
Tempest Rising Cover by the amazing artist Sharon Tancredi!
For Orbit’s take on the whole thing, go here!
For those of you in the Port, it’s another Beer and Bellydancing Monday . . . and since we’ve got no school today and tomorrow, we’ll be reverting to our summer schedule of Beer, Bellydancing, AND BLUES Mondays! So see you at Lee’s, my good friends. If you’re not in the Port, have an Abita with me to celebrate in spirit.
. . . when it comes to printers! I had a very small printer. Now I have a very LARGE printer:
I am impressed with its performance. It spat out my entire manuscript (double sided!) while I was taking my walkies.
I know from past experience that editing from the printed page helps serve as a reminder that a final product is the goal. Not a Lifetime of Editing (Futzing!).
So this is my way of helping myself edit. That said, I am turning sentence at an alarming rate. And enjoying every second of it.
For the rest of the day, however, I will be costumed, masked, and sporting in the Blanc et Noir second line. If you’re in the Port, see you there! If not, pictures will most assuredly be posted on my facebook page.
And now I will do my best Gambit/Pirate (all my accents inevitably descend into pirate):
Happy Mardi Gras, Cher!
So, those that know me are probably aware that I have commitment issues. I like being footloose and fancy free. I can always (I hope) be relied on as a friend, but things that tie me down make me all nervy and shaky, and I may bolt. I even pursued a career that means I only have to be in the same place about 8 months of the year, and the rest of the time I can wander around the earth like a lost soul. A marvelously content lost soul.
I am also an extremely OCD perfectionist. Indeed, the only thing that made me comfortable with having to attach myself to one place for a WHOLE eight months of the year was the fact that in that place I could keep a Dyson. A sweet, sweet Dyson with which I could clean. Obsessively.
So now that I sound well crazy, let me get to my point. Which is that I’m starting TODAY on “final” revisions for Tempest Rising, and I am kakking it. Through this whole process, I have been saying, “It ain’t over til the fat lady sings.” But the fat lady has begun to warm up her tonsils, and this is the beginning of the end of me being able to continually bother Jane & Co.
I spend about an hour, every day, turning about various sentences in this manuscript or Tracking’s. I am like the Henry James of Urban Fantasy. Minus the genius. And the confusion over my repressed sexuality. But the whole point is that I get to tinker to my heart’s content. Now, however, the tinkering is not tinkering, but FINAL REVISIONS, and the choices I make are going into galleys, then some other stuff I can’t remember, but eventually into ARC’s and the FINAL PUBLISHED BOOK. AAAAGH!
Terrifying. I will be MARRIED TO MY CHOICES. And that’s a word that gives me hives. Marriage, btw, not choices . . . I enjoy choices. But marriage? AGH!
What if I miss a colon? Seriously? I may cry. A repeated repeated word word? That might bring on a heart attack. And what if, gods forbid, I one day realize there was SUCH A better way to put something, and I missed that opportunity? I’ll probably write it in the margins. And stare at it, disgruntled, for days.
So, yes, I am crazy. And yes, I am apparently being forced to commit to something.
BTW, I am stretching my neck. I am not frantically looking around for my running shoes. Really.
Nicole Peeler will have a real website, very shortly. Until then, you can find her blogging, attempting assassinations, and generally being rather inappropriate, here:
That said, keep your eyes peeled. She is slowly learning how to use “technology” and may start actually doing things here. You can also find her on Facebook. The password to her friendship is “selkie.”
